


hardly ever what we dream

by Odaigahara



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - The Last Unicorn Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Captivity, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, M/M, Misunderstandings, Treason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odaigahara/pseuds/Odaigahara
Summary: Roman's kill was too big to sling across a horse, so he’d have to gut it here and sell the meat at the village he’d passed. Perhaps he could negotiate a ride with a trade caravan for the way back, too, since he hadn’t bothered to take an official warhorse with him for the journey. That would get him back before schedule, if he was especially lucky.Roman hadn’t felt especially lucky lately, but the extra struggle was worth it. If he could bring back a known aggressor, for once- something that his polymorphed guest might actually hate, that he might rejoice to see dead-Perhaps it would impress him. Perhaps Logan would give him a second glance.Or not, of course.Roman knew better than to hope for miracles.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42
Collections: Sanders Sides 2020 Gift Exchange





	hardly ever what we dream

**Author's Note:**

> Pinch hit for the Sanders Sides Gift Exchange on Tumblr! It is a gift for Jaiden (@stoicpanther). 
> 
> TW's at end notes, and thanks very much to alicat54c for the more specific prompt and for beta reading!

Roman found the pegasus nose-deep in a ram’s entrails. Its bladed feathers were hunched over its kill to hide it from the buzzards swooping above, and its sharp hooves were splattered with blood and viscera. 

The creature had been terrorizing local villages for weeks now, separated from its herd for what Roman suspected was overly aggressive behavior. Its coat should have been sleek, but was instead rough and grayish-brown with dust; its wings were jagged and unpreened. All signs of no larger group to protect it, while its blood red mane meant it was a stallion. 

Roman would almost have felt sorry for it, if it hadn’t been reported for stealing shepherd children from their fields- and if he hadn’t needed a trophy for this week’s hunt. The best quests, in his opinion, were the ones that killed two birds with one stone. 

Or, rather, with one sword.

The pegasus glanced up sharply at his approach, flaring its nostrils and rearing back, its hooves striking the ground in threat. It spread its wings so each knife-like feather was separate from the others, each pinion sharp at three edges and battle-ready. 

The bolas flung out and wrapped them _beautifully_ \- and then, battleground evened, Roman dove into the fight.

The pegasus took thirty minutes to kill. By the end of it Roman had to slump against a tree trunk, drenched in blood and reeking with it, while the corpse steamed and settled across the clearing. 

His wounds weren’t terrible, for a fight as long as that one had been. Roman tore the largest feathers free from his cuts and bandaged them as carelessly as his training let him get away with, forcing himself to stand without a limp. 

His kill was too big to sling across a horse, so he’d have to gut it here and sell the meat at the village he’d passed. Perhaps he could negotiate a ride with a trade caravan for the way back, too, since he hadn’t bothered to take an official warhorse with him for the journey. That would get him back before schedule, if he was especially lucky.

Roman hadn’t felt especially lucky lately, but the extra struggle was worth it. If he could bring back a known _aggressor,_ for once- something that his polymorphed guest might actually hate, that he might rejoice to see dead-

Perhaps it would impress him. Perhaps the unicorn would give him a second glance.

Or not, of course. 

Roman knew better than to hope for miracles.

*

The unicorn lived in the highest tower of the farthest corner of Roman’s father’s castle, and every day more books arrived at the gates for his perusal. His chambers were furnished with telescopes and astronomical charts, the finest parchment and softest silks, ink distilled from krakens in the deep ocean and preserved parts from every animal Roman had ever heard of and several he hadn’t. 

Roman’s father was desperately obsessed with their guest, lingering outside his door for hours each day to beg for a look at his fathomless eyes or plead for ancient wisdom; Roman, who thought the unicorn’s eyes were rather creepy, was pitifully glad his brother wasn’t there to see him doing basically the same thing. , In his more self-disgusted moments, Roman called it mooning. 

Remus would have called it something much more vulgar and embarrassing, which would have been unfortunate because it would also have been true. 

Roman had sold the meat of the pegasus on the first day, not trusting it to keep. He kept the feathers- primaries, coverts, secondaries and bladeless tertiaries- and the eyes- sharp as a hawk’s and just as viciously yellow, like the pegasus had captured the Sun in its pupils- and even a single hoof, but left the rest of the carcass to the traders, who would surely make better use of the parts. 

The trek up the endless spiraling stairs left Roman breathless as always, though only half from exhaustion. A sick anticipation was clogging up his throat, making his hands shake and his skin go clammy with nausea. Eyes and a hoof and rare feathers from a predator that had been killing children. That was good, wasn’t it? Much more impressive than his other prizes. Not worthy of love, perhaps, but of- regard, maybe? A second glance? 

No. Roman doubted anything would be enough for the unicorn. He could complete every quest in the world, come back laden with jewels and precious knowledge and more magical tomes than the unicorn could shake a stick at, and it would never be enough, because Roman wasn’t enough. There was only one thing the unicorn desired, and that was something Roman had no idea how to get him. He would be a traitor if he even tried. 

Technically what he was doing now- collecting ingredients for magic spells, giving the unicorn resources, even telling him of how the others were trapped in the sea- was terribly close to betraying his father as it was. Anything that made the unicorn less dependent on Roman’s father for everything he had went directly against the king’s wishes. The unicorn wasn’t meant to have any freedom at all. 

He was a novelty. A captive, forced into a shape anathema to him, kept so that Roman’s father could experience emotion by looking into his eyes. Roman wasn’t even supposed to know his name.

“Logan,” he said to the heavy door of the unicorn’s prison, arms laden with the spoils of his hunt. “May I come in? I’ve got something much more interesting than last time.”

His father wasn’t around. Small mercies.

The door opened, revealing a pale man with dark, reflectionless eyes. There was black smudged at the corner of his mouth, where he must have touched it with an ink-stained hand. Roman’s heart leaped into his throat. “Your last gift was the tusk of a Southern woolly rhino, which nearly tore off your arm at the joint and left you bedridden for two weeks.” Roman tried not to flinch at the humiliating reminder. “I fail to see how this could be _more_ interesting.” 

Logan stepped aside, letting Roman into the room even though his father had never been allowed past the threshold. “In fact,” Logan added dryly, “I am rather hoping it won’t be.”

“Spoilsport,” Roman sighed, weight on his chest lightening at the hint of Logan’s smile. He was always so _distant._ To be gifted a moment of presence, of _attention-_ “And here I spent five days tracking a pegasus specifically to gift you with the fruits of its corpse! Really, I’m feeling incredibly unappreciated right now.”

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed. “I am assuming you don’t mean to say you brought me its sperm,” he said, “which is what that phrasing implies-”

“It is _not-”_

“But I am appreciative of the thought,” Logan said finally, taking the bundle from Roman’s arms and placing it on a table by the wall. He didn’t give it a second glance, but instead glanced past Roman at his window facing the sea, preternaturally dark eyes going unfathomable and considering. Roman’s smile wavered. “Was that all?”

The words may as well have been knives. “I- suppose so,” Roman said, forcing his tone light. “If there’s nothing else you want me for.”

“I can’t currently think of anything in particular,” Logan agreed. His attention had already passed to the jars and magically-preserved boxes on his shelves, populated almost entirely by Roman’s efforts. There was a spellbook open on his bed, diagrams traced out onto parchment and set carefully aside beside Logan’s pillow. 

The blankets weren’t even rumpled. Roman never was sure when Logan slept, or if he did at all. 

He had to. He was human now, from the efforts of his father’s finest court mages, and that had given him a human’s vulnerabilities. No more of the effortless grace and immortality of a unicorn, or the bright unclouded life without regret, for him. Logan had lost that privilege when he’d refused to acquiesce to the king’s demands.

“Is there anything else you need?” Roman managed, making himself look away from the diagrams. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. He’d had an idea of the versatility of the magics he’d given Logan when he’d found them. He knew the depths of Logan’s boundless determination to free himself. Connecting the dots- thinking of all the spell ingredients he’d brought up these stairs, of all the hunts he’d undertaken without telling anyone of his quarry- would be a step too far. 

Logan didn’t trust him. He didn’t even _like_ him. To let him know that Roman had an idea of his end goal, that Roman knew he was being led on and manipulated so that Logan could break free-

It wouldn’t get him anywhere. Roman could let himself pretend for a little longer. He could puff himself up like a bower bird and bring all sorts of gifts, dancing for the chance of catching the unicorn’s eye, for as long as he had left with him. 

And when Logan did escape- when he broke the other unicorns free, as Roman was certain he would- Roman would fail to capture him and come home in shame, or perhaps in chains. There had never, ever been another option. 

His chest felt tight. Stupid. He’d been dismissed, Logan had made that clear enough. Roman should have been going to the healer, to get the remaining feather shards out of him and bandage his wounds with more than just cloth and clean water. He should have been reporting back to his father with a mouth full of lies, not lingering around a prisoner’s chamber because his head felt so light he wasn’t sure he could walk. How could he call himself a prince when he couldn’t even stop harassing a helpless _captive-_

Suddenly the floor was much closer than it had been. Roman blinked at it, vision graying at the corners, and felt a pair of cool hands on his arms. “Roman?” One of the hands migrated to his forehead. “Roman, I need you to tell me if you were injured.”

Logan’s face was marvelously close. Roman could count every strand of hair falling into his face, could trace the smudges on his glasses. He could have reached out and touched his cheek, if he wanted. 

His eyes felt hot. He blinked the tears back, furious with himself, and said, “It’s nothing a healer can’t fix. Pray don’t-- don’t bother worrying about it. I’ll be out and about again soon enough. I’ve been considering going after a wraith, actually.” He stared at the ground, trying to clear his vision, and added, flushing, “It’s, ah. Possible that I need your help to stand. My apologies.”

“Do not apologize,” Logan bit out, and the tone was so close to how he sounded with Roman’s father that he flinched, nauseous horror setting in with a vengeance. Gods, what was wrong with him- “You have been, to use the human colloquialism, ‘running yourself ragged’ in these attempts to impress me. You’ve hunted creatures that by all rights should have been killed by _groups with plans_ , as opposed to lone knights subsisting off strength and improvisation alone, and have been delivering your spoils so without even allowing yourself the benefit of _medical care_ beforehand. Apologizing for being injured is the last thing I wish you to do.”

Roman couldn’t breathe. Logan was still touching him, but now his fingers were ice on Roman’s skin, and he could feel the tips of them shaking. Logan shook just to touch him. Logan was, was _scared_ of him- “What should I apologize for, then?” Roman asked weakly. “If you want me to stop visiting, or to stop alerting you when I do, or to, to find you something better-”

“Pegasus eyes can be used in conjunction with kraken’s blood to create wards so powerful that they kill any unwelcome visitor,” Logan said, and Roman’s blood froze. The unicorn’s gaze was an abyss he couldn’t escape. “A manticore’s stinger, combined with marrow from a chimera’s spine and the tongue of a siren, can be used to weaken transmutative workings. A woolly rhino’s ivory _alone_ , wet with the blood of royalty, is enough to nullify the effects of any spell not cast under a half moon in a conjunction of Mars and Neptune, which has not occurred for three hundred years and will not for another fifty. These are things I am aware of, Roman, both from my nature and my studies. Do you expect me to believe that you aren’t aware of them as well?”

“I’ve never paid any attention to astronomy,” Roman croaked, shivering from Logan’s touch. His hand had moved to his cheek, now, thumb pressed close to the corner of Roman’s mouth. He wouldn’t have moved if Logan went to snap his _neck_ . “And they’re only trophies, Specs, you _know_ they are. I’m not studied or smart enough to think of anything else. I don’t even know what you’re _implying_ right now!”

“You _must_ know what I will do with these components,” Logan pressed. “I thought it was a game at first, a way of amusing yourself by playing at, at _courting_ something not meant to feel love, but the lengths to which you’ve _gone-”_

“Stop,” Roman choked out. “Please. If you’ve ever held any shred of pity for me, please, _stop.”_

If Logan was telling the truth, he could have left _weeks_ ago. He could have gone as soon as Roman staggered through his door with the latest prize. Roman wouldn’t have hunted him, bloodied and feverish as he was; Logan could have had a clean getaway. He would have been _free_.

“If I don’t go to the healers in the next hour, I’ll pass out,” Roman blurted, desperate for Logan to realize the mistake. “You could take my clothing and be out of the gates before anyone thought to question you. I’m already carrying gold-”

“Roman, what are you talking about?”

“You have to leave,” Roman said, heart blocking his throat. “It’s only a matter of time before my father realizes just how much my trophies are worth, magically speaking. You don’t have much longer to wait.”

“I am not,” Logan started, then paused, staring at Roman like he would at a stranger. “Roman, I didn’t leave three weeks ago because you were bedridden, and then abroad. I wasn’t leaving now because you were, and _are_ , clearly injured.”

“That’s the best time to leave,” Roman said, utterly bewildered. “If my father can’t send me after you-”

“He will also be unable to send you after me if you are already with me,” Logan pointed out, hand shaking on Roman’s face. 

Roman’s heart stuttered to a stop in his chest. “What?”

“You’ve done nothing but alleviate the conditions of my captivity since my arrival,” Logan said, like it was self-evident, like anything Roman had done had been in the name of _good._ “You have kept me company, kept your father from harassing me or confronting me alone, provided everything I needed for an eventual escape-- and yet, throughout our acquaintance, you have never shown yourself to be anything but miserable in your father’s service.” Logan’s voice broke at that. 

“I thought-- that is to say, I was under the impression that- that you would consent to leave with me. There are spells that can grant an extended lifespan, under certain conditions. While my kind is not known to die or form attachments, I have found myself increasingly inclined to do the second, and until recently was resigned to resorting to the first.” Logan cleared his throat. “Of course, if you don’t wish to accompany me, or if you- if you wish to report my plans-”

“You really wanted me to go with you?” Roman choked out. 

“Of course,” Logan said, sounding a little choked himself. “I still do. As soon as you are capable of travel, that is. Which would require visiting a healer so that your wounds do not grow infected and eventually kill you.”

“Oh, please, One-Horned Wonder,” Roman scoffed weakly. “As if a little infection would be enough to kill _me.”_

“It would make it difficult to travel at any speed,” Logan said, fathomless eyes shining. “An action which would be necessary, were we both to disappear at the same time- am I interpreting your reaction correctly? Is this consent, to leave with me at the earliest opportunity?”

Roman couldn’t stop his tears from overflowing. “Logan,” he said, almost wanting to laugh, “I would leave with you right now. We should, really, if you want the greatest chance of escape.”

“You’ll see a healer first,” Logan said. “We can discuss afterwards, once you’re well enough to stand without fainting.”

“Tyrant,” Roman said, wanting to sway into Logan’s hold and never leave him again. “What if my fa- if the king finds out? What if he stops you, or throws you into the sea?”

“I will develop plans for every eventuality,” Logan said, and pulled Roman carefully to his feet. Roman gazed at him, blinking back moisture from his eyes. “Will you promise to see a healer, Roman?”

Roman swallowed. “Will you promise to take me with you?”

“For as long as I can reasonably extend your lifespan,” Logan promised, and afforded him the hint of a smile. 

Roman thought he would give every year of his life just to catch a glimpse of that expression in the unicorn’s eyes again.

Then he fainted for real, which was unfortunate- but he supposed one miracle in a day was more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: self-esteem issues, captivity, animal death, forced transformation into a human, untreated injury


End file.
